


44.7%

by Himmelreich



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Gen, aldnoah.shipweek, don't take Marito as a role model, please be reasonable with alcohol kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:55:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2350790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Himmelreich/pseuds/Himmelreich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>„If it assuages you, this was my first glass today“, he offers instead of a greeting, gazing up at the doctor with a lopsided smirk, not even trying to bother with formalities. It‘s far from the first time they have met like this, and they both know better.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	44.7%

**Author's Note:**

> Additional entry to the Aldnoah.Shipweek on tumblr, since _In Memoriam_ will exclusively deal with the protagonist trio, but I also really like these two and their relationship a lot, so today‘s prompt was more than enough reason for me to give them some more fandom love as well. Shippy if you wish it to be, pure friendship if you don‘t.
> 
>  
> 
> _DAY 2: Relationship_

The ice at the bottom of the glass is the only thing left now, he notices, and it‘s slowly melting and replacing the previously contained amber liquor with crystal clear, but unfortunately entirely non-alcoholic liquid. He sighs, idly tilting the glass back and forth in his hand, its bottom edge rolling across the polished counter top with a pleasantly hollow sound each time, all the while watching the nearly invisible chunks of frozen water drifting from one side to the other, and decides that for eight in the evening, he‘s way too sober. It‘s another three hours until he‘ll try to go to sleep, and maybe another five until he‘ll actually be able to without waking up from nightmares each time his brain lets down the iron walls he tries to contain those memories in as soon as he drifts off into unconsciousness. (He says „nightmares“ in plural now, but it‘s always the same thing he sees with annoyingly little variation to it, yet people seem unable to understand that one and the same dream each and every night can affect you each and every time just as strongly as before, so he had taken up simply saying „nightmares“ and leaving it at that - not that many people were still asking about him.)

He unglues his eyes from the bottom of the empty glass to search out the bartender instead, currently busy with something and turning his back to him, who would hopefully refill it refraining from any commentary. (He is a regular here, so much of a regular actually that he was the one to see different bartenders come and go over time and not vice versa, and the one today had only been working in this bar for about a month and apparently still felt some sort of moral obligation to stop guest from drinking too much - quite nonsensical if you considered that this establishment made its money off these guests in the first place). Before he can speak up to draw attention to himself, however, he suddenly finds his pointless fumbling with the glass put to a sudden halt when someone gently but firmly presses the palm of their hand over the opening, effectively also sealing it off from being refilled anytime soon. He doesn‘t even have to turn to look to know who it is.

„If it assuages you, this was my first glass today“, he offers instead of a greeting, gazing up at the doctor with a lopsided smirk, not even trying to bother with formalities. It‘s far from the first time they have met like this, and they both know better. Yagarai-sensei sighs, but there is no true disappointment behind it, or any sort of haughty admonishment, his seemingly permanent gentle smile in place as usual, even though to Marito it‘s obvious from the long time he has known him by now that the man is just as tired and beat by the day as he is, he can tell from the slight slump of his shoulders, the more prominent than usual lines of his face, and the way his glasses seem to sit a bit out of place, as if he had rubbed hits eyes a few times too many over the course of his work hours. Marito gives a small nod to the barstool next to him, and that‘s all the invitation it needs as Yagarai-sensei takes a seat, not relinquishing his protective hold over the glass for even a second, the tips of his fingers brushing over Marito‘s as the angle shifts.  
„That‘s because sips from your pocket flask don‘t count as glasses in your logic, isn‘t it, Lieutenant?“ Again, there‘s no edge to his voice, instead that by now so very familiar tone of amicable exasperation, and a certain fondness.  
„True enough“, Marito admits instantly, „but I was being honest and precise in that statement going by logic, you can‘t take that virtue from me, Sensei.“  
Yagarai-sensei merely blinks at him for a second, seemingly dumbfounded by this response, before letting out a small laugh.  
„You truly are an impossible man, Lieutenant.“  
„I‘m your senior both in rank and age, you know, is that kind of tone really appropriate, I wonder?“, Marito asks with all the fake sternness of a military officer he can muster at this point. (Truth is that he stopped caring about whether his tone was „ _commanding officer_ “ enough for a man of his position a long, long time ago.)  
„Well, I took an oath to put the health of my patients first, which I take to believe also means protecting them from themselves and occasional bad life decisions.“ He leaves the „ _such as these_ “ unspoken, his hand still resting on the glass driving the point home nonverbally more successfully than any words might have, and they both know it, anyway.  
„Now, aren‘t you a misguided idealist, Sensei.“

It wasn‘t supposed to come out as arrogant or derisive, but Marito notices that it still ended up sounding harsher than intended as soon as he has said it. He quickly scans the doctor‘s face for signs of him actually taking offence to it - even though they have known each other for a long time now, Marito knows that he still manages to hurt people in general with his straightforward truths more often than not. It‘s the main reason he doesn‘t get along well with people. (Apart from the more level-headed soldiers of the base disdaining him in general for being a drunk slacker who was too hung up about something in the past he should have gotten over a long time ago according to their standards.) Most of them did in fact not appreciate having someone around who was pessimistic about the world‘s state on a good day, and sardonic on a bad one - and to be honest, he doesn‘t blame them. With things being as they were, he had actually been really surprised to find this certain doctor be so absolutely resilient to his behaviour. No matter what he had said and how many times he had assured him that trying to lecture him about drinking was going to prove futile and he should rather save his breath for more important things, the man had ignored all of it and continued to show up at his drinking places every so often, or joined him at the canteen for lunch, or dropped by his office when he happened to be around that certain area of the base. (That latter type of event he mainly knew from other people telling him, as Marito was only ever to be found in his office when Officer Kaizuka had practically dragged him there by force, so this room probably had seen more of Yagarai-sensei during these times than it had of his actual owner.) At first he had attributed it to the doctor being young and over-eager, maybe a bit too naive and still determined to singlehandedly save the world and all of the people living in it, as it was not uncommon for beginners in the medical field or the military, but years had passed and there had been no sign of his persistence waning. Gradually Marito came to realise that apparently it really was a part of the doctor‘s general personality that was not going to change no matter what he did, and at some point, Marito had found himself in turn drop by the doctor‘s office for a chat every once in a while as well without really knowing why, and before he knew it, he had told this man more about himself than he had to any other person for fifteen years.

Yagarai-sensei had listened to everything patiently, even the parts that everyone else usually instantly dismissed as a lie at best or the tasteless attempt at boasting at worst. („As if you‘ve actually seen anything on Tanegashima, stop making things up, we‘ve all seen war fifteen years ago, stop trying to be special.“) And he had listened to him talking about Humeray, again and again about Humeray, and Marito had suddenly realised just how much he had needed someone to listen, someone that truly _could_ listen, being silent or giving encouragement at exactly the right times, someone that could refrain from judgement and jumping to conclusions, someone that didn‘t grow impatient when he talked about the same thing multiple times and multiple times again.  
On one occasion, he had kept talking way into the night, them staying behind in the emptying base in the brightly lit hospital wing that was the doctor‘s realm. When he had realised it was past midnight already, he had apologised and in the same breath demanded to know why the other had not shot him down earlier, knowing that their nights were short enough as it was with their jobs beginning ungodly early, after all. Yagarai-sensei had simply shrugged with a smile and replied as if it was the most obvious thing.  
„I don‘t mind keeping you company, Lieutenant. Actually, I quite like it.“

„Now you just sound cynical and bitter, Lieutenant.“  
There is no sign of hurt on his face, Marito realises with relief, only a soft expression in his eyes that he can‘t quite pin down. (Compassion? Sympathy? Pity? Sometimes it was hard to distinguish the shades of empathy, especially if you yourself had tried to get rid off that emotion in order to be able to go on.) He decides that this is not a night for a serious conversation, however. He can tell they are both tired, and even though the doctor would again spend a whole night just listening to him if he asked him to, he doesn‘t want to take advantage of this privilege without reason.  
„Haah, I‘m an old man after all, so I do get to mock the enthusiasm of youth, it‘s one of the few perks“, he declares with attitude, finally letting go off his glass and patting the other man on the back instead in an exaggeratedly patronising manner. He feels the low chuckle in response more than he actually hears it.  
„Are you now? Must have slipped my mind. Well, all the more reason for me to take better care of this old man and his drinking habits.“  
With that, the doctor signalled to the bartender.  
„One Gunner and one Single Malt, please.“  
Marito demonstratively raises his eyebrows at that order, but the other doesn‘t elaborate on it.  
„That was unexpected, but thank you, I suppose?“, he finally says when the drinks are placed in front of them, and automatically goes for the Whiskey glass, only to see it snatched from him with surprising speed for someone with no further military training.  
Yagarai-sensei shoots him a brilliant smile.  
„The Whiskey is for me, actually, but you‘re very much welcome for the drink, anyways.“  
„This _is_ unexpected, then“, Marito admits, but still picks up the remaining glass and takes a sip, trusting the doctor enough to not poison him with strange drinks. Through the strong and refreshing citrus flavour, he can still pick up that unmistakable taste instantly.  
„This one still has alcohol in it, though, doesn‘t it?“  
„It does“, Yagarai-sensei promptly confirms, „a dash of Angustura bitters usually.“  
„Then what was all that „taking care of my drinking habits“ bit about? Giving up before you even try now?“  
„I won‘t put you on cold turkey in your after hours, and it‘s still better than having you down a few more glasses of pure alcohol in my absence, isn‘t it?“  
Marito shakes his head with a small laugh.  
„Your ways of treatment are as interesting as usual, Sensei, I give you that. What‘s up with you drinking it in my place, though?“  
The doctor shrugs, glancing down at the glass in his hand, echoing the rotating motion Marito had done earlier.  
„I felt like drinking today, and it‘s always nicer in pleasant company, or so I think.“  
Marito smiles, sincerely this time, without any trace of sarcasm.  
„It really is.“

They finish their drinks in agreeable silence.


End file.
